Book Four The Bruising of the Wings Chapter 4 Some Remarks About Cats

That shot told.

"You don't know what anxiety you've caused, leaving us for--for strangers, that way," she retorted, bridling; "but since you would go, I'm glad everything's turned out so--been having your portrait painted? Why, it's a--it is a Van Nostrand!"--She had spied the painting.--"It's like you, rather; but--doesn't he charge a fortune?"

Then she rattled on, about the rooms, about Bermuda lilies and donkey carts, trying now and again to pry into my plans and urging me, not too warmly, to return to her, until she had reached the limits of a call of courtesy. I think it was with real relief that she rose as she received my final refusal. Uncle, who had sat silent in kind, or blind, perplexity, was unfeignedly glad to go.

"Run in often, won't you?" she said, at parting. "I hear--but perhaps I shouldn't speak of that. Is--is Lord Strathay like his pictures?"

Fussy! She'd gladly wash her hands of me, yet thinks she has a duty. But I was glad, for once, to see her. It's not for nothing that I have run society's gauntlet; I can aim confetti with the best of them; innocent- looking but they hurt.

Scarcely had they gone when in rushed the General and my prim duenna, Mrs. Whitney; they'd been waiting until the coast was clear. It was with something like a scream that the two flew at me, crying in one voice:-"Have you really refused to be one of Peggy's bridesmaids? Why didn't you consult me?"